


Mick's adventures as an escort

by grimmfairy



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Planned Parenthood, Protective Mick Rory, all the other escorts love him, and mother him, but proud nonetheless, clinic escort mick, confused, he likes cookies, len is fine as long as mick keeps bringing home flavored condoms, len is mostly proud, mick likes to read the pamphlets in the waiting room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: Mick becomes an escort for an women's health clinic, meets a lot of new people, gains a bunch of female friends, protects those that need it, and brings home a lot of free flavored condoms for his amused partner.Based on a tumblr musing I had a while back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daughter_of_Scotland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/gifts).



Mick pushed through the door of the clinic, and his arrival was announced by a soft chime. He noticed immediately the flash of fear on the receptionist's face as he approached and he could feel the stares of the assorted women in the waiting area as he passed the doorway. He knew he was mean and scary looking, but it was hard for him to look like anything but a hardened criminal no matter what he did.

"I have an appointment at 11:30," Mick grunted at the woman in the office. A sheet of glass separated them. Bulletproof, if he was not mistaken. The woman clicked on her computer while Mick observed the fishbowl of condoms on the counter. Flavored ones, he realized. That might be fun. He didn't see a price, so he reached inside with his big fingers and snagged a few.

"I'm sorry, but we're running a little behind schedule today, sir. Would you mind waiting in the waiting area? It should only be about fifteen minutes," The lady said politely, her eyes flickering over his face as if to memorize it. Her name tag said Judy. Mick shrugged. He had no where to be.

"What's with the assholes?" Mick indicated the mob outside with his thumb. Judy stiffened slightly. "They do that every day?"

"Most days, yes. It's their legal right as of six months ago," Judy replied in that same polite tone, though it had a steely edge now.

Mick hummed thoughtfully and turned away to go to the waiting area. He didn't like the open fear with which some of the other occupants of the waiting room were staring at him, so he snatched a few pamphlets on gender identity and STDs to peruse while he waited. The number of non-cishet people in the world of crime was growing fast, and Mick didn't want a repeat of being clocked in the face by a nonbinary hitter. That had sucked, though Mick ended up buying _them_  (not _he_ ) a drink and talking about gender neutral pronouns. 

"Mr. Rory?" 

Mick looked up, having lost track of time. A pleasant-looking woman was standing there looking at him.

"'s me," Mick affirmed, and stood up. The pamphlets he folded in half and stuffed into his jacket pocket, which made the lady (he assumed she was a doctor) appraise him more closely. 

"Well, come on back."

* * *

Mick was signing a few forms at the front desk when he noticed that Judy was looking at him contemplatively. The doctor that had done his STD testing had scolded him in a motherly way for never having it done before but praised him for taking the initiative eventually. She had also offered to give him a few more pamphlets on sexuality, which he had shrugged and accepted. As he was finishing up, he heard a commotion growing outside the door. Judy sighed miserably. 

"What's wrong with them?" Mick asked. Judy hung her head.

"There's probably a woman trying to get to the front door. They like to mob them, and we don't have any walkers working today. They're all scared," Judy said. Mick nodded absently, still trying to catch of glimpse of what the problem was outside. Judy was, of course, referring to the attempted firebombing of the clinic two counties over. It had been all over the news the other day, and the bomber's family was still giving interviews to anyone who would listen. He handed the clipboard back to her, and then strolled outside. He reached the slowly moving knot of chanting protesters and shouldered his way to the middle. A young woman, no more than eighteen looked up at him with desperate scared eyes.

"You tryin' to get inside?" Mick grunted. The girl nodded. A man shouted that she was going to hell. A woman shrieked something about fingernails. Mick held out his hand. "C'mon."

Small fingers linked with his own, and Mick drew himself up to his full height. He made sure she was right at his side him and began making his way back to the doors, shielding her as best as he could his free arm. The sign wavers started to get in his face, but most backed up when Mick snarled at them. The buffer around the front of the clinic was a welcome sight, and then the mob was behind them. Mick walked the girl the last few feet to the doors.

"Thank you, sir," The girl said. Her mascara was smudged and her hands were shaking, but she was standing there with him with determination in her eyes. Then she squared her shoulders, let go of his hand, and marched inside. Mick saw Judy wave at him to come inside, so he did. Still had no where to be today. Judy was beaming at him when he reached the desk.

"Thank you for doing that," Judy gushed. Mick shrugged again. 

"I don't like bullies."

"You wouldn't happen to...I don't know, want to do this officially? I can bring you the paperwork for volunteering," Judy offered hopefully. Mick considered her for a moment.

"I'll fill it out, you run your background check. If you still want me around, give me a call."

One week later, his personal cell phone rang.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mick held up the pink vest to his torso and shot an incredulous look at Judy, who grimaced apologetically. This was the largest "ESCORT" smock they had in the clinic, and it was... _woefully_ small. Judy choked back a snort of laughter when Mick pretended to try to fit his arm through the armhole. 

"You're, ah, a bit...larger than our usual volunteer. We'll have to special order something for you," Judy said, her mouth threatening to break out into a smile. Mick handed the garish thing back to her. "We could get you a less striking color, if you like."

Mick shrugged. He doubted a pink vest would change his ability to scare the assholes outside, but it would probably make him less intimidating to women.

"'s fine. Brings out my eyes," Mick replied. "You know, I figured an upstanding place like this wouldn't want a felon hanging around."

He had already had this conversation with the volunteer coordinator and the head honcho of the clinic, and they assured him that while his criminal record was...concerning, he had no history of violence against women, was regularly checking in with his parole officer, and he was only a volunteer. Mick was pretty sure they'd have thought differently if his little stunt with the aliens in Central City hadn't earned him a pardon for his more serious crimes.

"Well, you've already showed you won't take anyone's crap, and you seem to have a knack for scaring people without actually laying a finger on them," Judy pointed out as she reached for the pink box full of donuts that she had set out on the waiting room coffee table. "Help yourself, by the way. The others will be here soon. But seriously, you're not the first felon that's walked through our doors and I doubt you'll be the last."

"Fair enough," Mick conceded. He took one of the donuts and looked outside. It was was raining just hard enough to be annoying but not hard enough to do any real good for the limited grass space in the city. Judy was in a chipper mood today despite the weather. Probably _because_ of the weather, Mick realized. So far no one had shown up to protest outside in the miserable dampness.

"Well, at least your first day is shaping up to be pretty tame," Judy said as she began to prepare the coffee for the large communal coffee urns against one wall. "You'd be amazed how many one-day volunteers we get. To be fair though, the training session and the real thing are very different."

The training session had been a few hours long, and mostly informed him that he was not allowed to start violence and that he shouldn't take it personally if the young women he was protecting were afraid of him (as a man). There were other things too, but he was more than used to watching someone else's back. It came naturally to him. Judy continued chattering away as the last of the various doctors and nurses and employees filtered in. The clinic was opening soon for regular business hours, and Judy had only asked Mick to come in early to finish signing his volunteer paperwork and try on a smock. At least one of those tasks was completed. Mick couldn't recall the last time he had carried on a conversation this long with a non-criminal woman. A few minutes before opening, a middle-aged soccer mom looking woman came bustling in with a bright smile and pink smock. She was carrying two coffee carriers laden with paper cups from the cafe down the street and her blonde hair was speckled from the rain.

"So you're the new recruit!" She set down on the coffee carriers and stuck out her hand for Mick to shake. "Judy told me we'd be getting a little more muscle now. And just look at you! Marvelous, they won't know what hit them."

Judy came over and briefly embraced the woman, then turned to Mick, smiling at the somewhat shell-shocked look on his face.

"Mick, this Patty Sinclair," Judy introduced. Patty handed her one of the coffees, then offered one to Mick. "She's our most experienced walker."

"Been doing this for...well, going on seven years now I believe," Patty added, taking a sip from her own latte. "I wasn't sure what the new guy would like, so I just grabbed a black coffee, and the others should be here soon. Traffic is always so impossible when it rains."

Mick watched, amused, as Patty greeted each subsequent member of her flock as the walked in. There was Mary, the graduate student, and Tania, the college English professor, and Martha, the stay home mother with a recently empty nest. They each sized Mick up with varying levels of surprise and distrust, except for Martha. Martha seemed to stare right past his hardened exterior. Definitely a woman that was not to be messed with. Patty explained to each them the day's forecast, the number of appointments, and then set up the formation they would take outside. Mick didn't mind when he was assigned to be the main physical barrier between the more aggressive protesters, should the occasion arise. 

"Also, Helen has informed that she'll be back in a few weeks once her child starts daycare," Patty finished. "She hopes you've all been enjoying the baby pictures."

Martha was, as he had expected, the first to speak directly to him.

"So. Where did you do your time?" She asked. Mick raised an eyebrow. "I didn't always live in a suburb. I know a prison tat when I see one."

"Fair enough," Mick said, a grin threatening to break on his face. "I've been in Iron Heights, most recently."

"Figures. So is this some kind of community service?" Martha asked, though there was no judgement in her voice, and only guarded curiosity in her eyes. Definitely the "mom" of the group.

"Nah. Seemed like something worth doing," Mick said after a pause, continuing before he could stop himself. "A place like this, it deserves to exist."

"So do you," Martha said solemnly, her piercing blue eyes filled with conviction. "Anyways, where's your smock?"

"Too big for the ones Judy's got in the back," Mick said, shrugging off the weird tension. Mary wandered over, having overheard the smock part.

"Most guys want a blue smock," She said, poking Mick's shoulder playfully. Brave of her, Mick thought to himself. "What about you, big guy?"

"Pink is my color," Mick replied deadpan. The women laughed.

"I'm sure it is," Mary said when she could speak again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard Snart liked to think he was a hard man to surprise. After all, he had died and somehow come back to life through the power of time travel like a character in some kind of second-rate Doctor Who episode (complete with a British asshole in a time machine). That's about as surprising as one can get. Even the way Mick had started volunteering as an escort at the clinic wasn't all that surprising. Mick had developed a strong "white knight" instinct during his stint with the legends, no doubt from spending so much time around Ray Palmer while Len was dead. It was a good outlet for Mick, something to keep him occupied and out of trouble now that they were trying to live on the right side of the law. For now.

Len was, however, _not_ prepared for the sight that greeted him when Mick walked in the door after spending the morning and most of the afternoon at the clinic.

"Mick. What the hell is that _thing_?" Len asked, staring pointedly at Mick's neck. Mick glared at him, his large hand coming up almost defensively to stroke at the offending article.

"It's called a scarf."

"Are you sure?" Len persisted, his lip wrinkling slightly. 

"Shut up," Mick growled. 

Mary, the graduate student, was in the midst of midterm exams. This was on top balancing her classwork and her graduate research with nothing but fierce will and enough caffeine to kill a horse. Her yarn work was simply a way to relieve that stress of her chaotic days, a way to help her unwind enough to sleep at night. All the other ladies possessed scarves of various colors and lengths, and Mary had decided to make him one as well. The stitches in the scarf she had shyly presented to Mick that day were slightly uneven, made of yarn dyed some horrifying shade of burnt orange and blood red. It was ugly, no doubt about it. 

Mick loved it.

"I'm not going anywhere with you until you take it off," Len drawled, going back to his book.

Mick flipped him off and stomped away to his room. The cold air had seeped into his bones today and was making him cranky. The scarf found its way to Mick's bed, neatly folded beside the large pink smock, while the man showered away the insults and threats that had been shouted at him today. One particularly brave (aka stupid) protester had attempted to follow Mary when she left early to study, only to find himself face-to-face with Mick after she called him in a panic. A stern talking to and some not so veiled threats turned the idiot right around. The man had walked away scared, but unharmed. Mick prided himself on his restraint. 

* * *

Iris checked her bag to be sure that she had all of the necessary items for this meeting, and then walked into the little cafe. It was older than Jitters, and a bit more worn, but the space was clean and airy and it was where the ladies had agreed to meet with her. When her boss had asked her to cover this story in the wake of the increased national spotlight on reproductive rights, she was at first unsure how to approach the piece. But the escorts, and their stories, were a great place to start since Iris was after the human element and had no interest in speaking to the protesters outside.

Her contact, Patty, waved at her from one of the large booths in the corner where they could have some semblance of privacy. Iris collected her latte and joined the woman. 

"It's nice to meet you face-to-face," Iris said, holding out her hand for a handshake. Patty obliged, but Iris couldn't help but feel like she didn't quite trust her. "I'm really looking forward to working with you on this."

"I'm going to cut to the chase," Patty said firmly, but not unkindly. "There's a lot of fear and anger in the world, and I see it every time I put on my smock. I have been spit on, yelled at, cursed to hell, followed home, threatened, and prank called at all hours of the night. And that's fine, I signed up for that when I became a volunteer. But I will not expose my girls to you if you're going to vilify in the press. I will not help you collect stories if you're going to condemn the choices of the women that step foot inside our door. Have I made myself clear?"

Iris nodded.

"Absolutely. My editor only wants the truth."

"Good," Patty sipped at her drink, and her smile was much wider now. "So. Where would you like to start?"

"Well, I was hoping to get a little background about the process you went through to be an escort, and why you do it day after day."

"Well, it was a little different back then," Patty replied. "Now our background checks are more thorough, and the laws are a bit different than they were seven years ago. But I first started volunteering at the clinic after I made an appointment for a Depo-shot and I was called a whore by a man standing outside and an escort walked me inside. I talked to her about it, and she offered to give me the volunteer forms. I never looked back."

Iris took notes at patty spoke, and took down direct quotes for later use. Then, Iris had an idea.

"What do you think of me becoming a volunteer? Just for a little while?" Iris asked. Patty tilted her head to the side slightly. "You know, to get a more personal perspective. I'll go through the whole process, and meet the others on equal ground."

"Well, we are always looking for extra help," Patty said thoughtfully. "As long as you take this seriously, and are prepared for the consequences, I see no reason why not."

Iris smiled. This was going to take her story from a puff piece to a more serious level. And how bad could it be? She had already been threatened by some of Central's most notorious criminals.

"Great. I'll pick up the paperwork today."

 

 


End file.
